


reunions and what if's

by dungji



Category: The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Romance, drama??, not sure how to do tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dungji/pseuds/dungji
Summary: An AU of Sam and Six's reunion at the Ashwood Estates (from the 5th book, "The Revenge of Seven").





	reunions and what if's

**Author's Note:**

> Maren meets Sam again, but there's some added drama and sloppy romance stuff. You'll get what I mean. I intentionally wanted to portray "Maren" as a more, let's say, "vulnerable" version of Six. So idk if that still counts or if she's too OOC
> 
>  
> 
> It's been a while since I last read the series, so I'm not really sure if I got the characterizations (or even the timelines) right. Do correct me if you find any errors, though. I'd appreciate it.

Dinner at the Ashwood Estates wasn’t exactly grand. Aside from the occasional Mog ash scattered around the garden, it’s not everyday Sam got to dine with an alien race, FBI agents, and other important people. The subtle smell of lilies in the garden didn’t really improve the mood, either. Especially now that everyone knew Eight was gone.

Sam helped himself with spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, tasteless chicken, and mushroom soup. “At least the canned soup tastes a little like home,” he mumbled, nostalgia and homesickness threatened to overcome him. He hadn't been homesick in a long time, but he found himself feeling lonely every now and then. He’s not sure why, or maybe he just didn’t want to admit it yet.

That he missed Six.

 

He reached for his glass and realized it’s empty. He stood up, momentarily contemplating whether or not he should get more dessert. To be fair, the lemon squares _actually_ tasted good. The previous inhabitants of the estate weren't human to begin with, so this was unexpected. But then he decided against it, and walked towards the water dispenser beside the small buffet table. Okay, well, they weren't having a _buffet_ kind of buffet. It's just that there were a lot of them, so the government guys decided that this sort of food distribution system was the easiest way of serving their meals. And it felt fancy, too. Sam didn't really care, though.

Soft, indistinct chatter comprised the symphony that was the peacefulness of a brief reprieve in the grueling alien war. Sam had been fighting his own wars, and peace was seated right there with her friends—her golden hair partly tied up and there’s a warmth emanating from her presence that made him forget that his glass had already overflowed.

After he cleaned up his mess—one that earned him a good two minutes of teasing from Nine—Sam moved to a less crowded spot in the dining area to enjoy his cold drink. Of course, it was simply so he could get a better view of Six, who just happened to look up and _finally_ make eye contact with him.

He waved at her with his free hand, hoping he'd get a smile or even a wave back. Instead, they locked eyes for about three seconds (or two? spending time with her had always been too short, anyway) before she looked away again to continue her conversation with Marina. Normally, he’d be sad about getting ignored like that by the girl he had longed to see after a long time, but there was something about the way she acted in the next half-hour that made him feel otherwise. Or rather, there was something about the way she'd constantly sneak glances and even _stared_ at him from afar that he found so strangely unlike her.

And it’s been so long since they’ve last seen each other. Or talked. He wished their reunion wasn’t this awkward, but there _was_ some humor in it. At least, for Sam. Like earlier, she would look away whenever he tried to make eye contact with her. Or she would suddenly find the floor more interesting when they all lined up to get servings from the buffet table. Clearly, she wasn’t in the mood for confrontations.

 _Well that’s odd, because it still isn’t like her to act like this,_ Sam thought to himself. The Six he knew was the type who’d face anything and anyone—like, she’d even challenge Setrákus Ra in a fistfight all by herself without flinching. But this awfully adorable girl wasn’t Six. This was Maren.

Then, he remembered their conversation back at Nine’s penthouse. He asked her out and, well, it didn’t exactly end in a way that he hoped it would. She just said it wasn't the right time...

So then, maybe-

 _No, you blew it already._  Sam cut himself off, and his downcast eyes stared through the glass of water he held.  _Still a total loser._

He sighed.

 

After finishing his drink, Sam started walking back to the underground tunnels of the estate when a force abruptly stopped him—as if a wall made entirely of telekinetic force prevented him from leaving. He looked around and, before he could call out to the others, he noticed a group of FBI agents leave the dining area without a problem.

 _Oh, so this must be another one of Nine’s pranks._ Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance as he turned around to look for the culprit, expecting a smirk on his stupid face. To Sam’s surprise, Nine had already passed out over his own table, snoring audibly while BK peacefully curled up beside him. Four was busy discussing strategy and Mogadorian politics with Adam and Malcolm. Six and Marina were nowhere to be found.

 

_Okay this is getting weird._

 

Then, something—or _someone—_ grabbed his hand. Immediately, his whole body disappeared. The odd, familiar feeling of being invisible washed over him and a soft voice he’d been _dying_ to hear came from the empty space before him, shushing him.

 

It was Maren.

 

* * *

 

“Are we eloping?” Sam asked, carefully watching his footsteps to distract himself from the excited pounding of his heart as Maren pulled him away from the dining area. They made their way through the garden, heading toward the quieter, isolated areas. Thankfully, the skies have cleared enough and the moon shone with a hue that lit up the entire estate in brilliant light blue. Unfortunately, Sam couldn't enjoy much of the view, because he was too engrossed with the feeling of Maren holding his hand.

The place they arrived at was surrounded with orchids and roses; the still waters of the small fountain near them glistened under the moonlight. Maren released Sam’s hand, and they both materialized back into existence.

“No, Sam,” she finally replied. She turned to him, her eyes searching the ground for words. “I have to tell you somethi-”

 

Ripples danced across the fountain’s waters, disturbing the stars that dotted its reflective surface when Sam suddenly pulled Maren into an embrace and they both lost their balance and fell down on the soft grass with a muffled thump. Sam wore an orange _NASA_  t-shirt that contrasted with her olive tank top and black leather jacket. Maren recovered first and pushed herself up on top of him, their entangled legs made it harder for her to keep her face from hovering too close to his.

It’s not like she didn’t want it to be close, anyway.

 

“Couldn’t you wait?” Maren whined, glaring at Sam while trying—and failing—not to blush. He gives her a smug smile that earned him a punch on the arm. Honestly, he’s too happy to care about anything else right now, other than the sound of Maren's voice and the touch of her skin and just about _everything_ related to her existence. He missed talking to her again after so long and, coupled with his occasional loneliness, the fact that he was relieved to see her alive, safe, and in one piece made it all the more harder for him to hold back from hugging her.

 

“Sorry,” Sam said, smiling apologetically. “You okay?”

 

Maren paused and stared at him, seemingly resigning herself to the awkward state they found themselves in. Sam noticed there was a sense of maturity in her that wasn't there before—a newfound fortitude that illuminated her tired eyes, and her countenance made impenetrable by the countless bloodbaths (or ashbaths) she’s probably been in. But he wondered if there were also other painful things she was hiding under that cold facade of hers. Aside from the occasional bruise (and there was one over her left ankle), she seemed okay. Physically, at least. They stayed like that for a while—entangled in each other’s existence. Then slowly, she untied her hair and it dangled loosely over the sides of his face, veiling the closeness of their lips.

 

“I missed you,” she whispered, threading her fingers around his. “You  _dork_ _._ ”

 

Before he could respond, she leaned down to press her lips against his.

 

Their kiss was long and slow at first. It crescendoed into a more breathless rhythm as the pair eagerly poured themselves into each other’s mouths, letting their instincts drive their tongues. Maren’s lips were unfairly soft and sweet, and Sam relished the lingering taste of coffee from her (now) wet lips before she gently pulled away. For a while, only the sound of their breathing filled the air. A falling star streaked across the sky.

 

“I missed you, too,” Sam replied, his eyes never left hers. “Like, a  _lot._ ”

Maren smiled and tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear before going in for another kiss. After about three rounds of making out, they laid beside each other. Sam absent-mindedly drawing circles over the back of her hand. Finally, Maren broke the silence.

“Eight is dead because of _me_. But I...” Her voice was soft, and the words came out slowly. “I’m more afraid of losing you, Sam.” 

 

So _that’s_ why.

 

“Eight is dead because of _Setrákus_ ,” Sam corrected her.  “I’m not gonna die that easily and you _know_ that, Maren.” Her name tasted a little differently on his mouth—not bad, just different. A good kind of different, you could say. It was a different name, but it was a name that felt more  _real_.

He squeezed her hand. The scars on his wrists betrayed the reassurance he had hoped to give her, but hey, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

 

“And besides,” Sam continued, turning to look at her. “I have you.”

 

“But I’ll be distracted by you!” She complained, glancing at his lips. Sam had to hold himself back from helping her prove her point.

 

“There's also BK, and John, and Marina,” Sam continued, pretending to be oblivious to her dilemma. “Dad, Adam, and Nine are there, too...” his voice trailed off as he sat up. He sighed as he looked back at her with a serious expression.

 

“Can we make out again?”

 

“No!” Maren pushed Sam away, but still holding tightly on to his hand. She gave him a frustrated look. “I’m being serious, Sam Goode. If we’re gonna start going out, I _need_ you to be alive. And promise me you won’t die.”

 

“Okay, okay,” he replied, still laughing. Sam hooked his pinky finger with Maren’s. “I solemnly swear that I will not die until I get killed.”

 

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Sam smiled.

 

“...and that I will not die until I marry Maren Elizabeth and grow old with her,” he added. “And maybe even have lots of kids and-”

 

“You can stop now.” Maren tried to mask her smile by glaring at him, but ended up with a pouty expression that instead made her look irresistibly cute. Sam laughed again.

 

“Come on, Maren,” he said after he had calmed down. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. “We’re a team, remember? And I’m already like part of the _equation_. You guys just take care of the Mogs and Setrákus Ra, and I’ll handle the tech, the research, the alien trivia—all that stuff.”

 

“You make it sound so easy,” she said, reaching up to brush away strands of hair that curled down over Sam’s forehead.

 

“As long as we’re fighting together _,_ ” Sam replied, catching her hand and planting a kiss on her palm. “I guess—no, I’m _sure_ we’ll be okay.”

 

With that, he ruffled her hair and she snuggled closer to him. They cuddled beneath the faint moonlight, counting away the wee hours of the night with “what if's” and “would you rather” questions; the warmth of their shared memories protected them against the cold, cruel darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Well if you're reading this then you must've gone through the horrible experience that is my first fanfic. Actually, this drabble-ish thing (or whatever this is) was already long overdue the "supposed" deadline which was two days ago (oh well). I'm still struggling with this whole mixed-voice writing thing, especially when trying to find the right "balance" to blend the characters' voices with mine over the narrative. And the word choices. And the sentence structure. The way Sam "talks" is quite interesting, though. His journals were pretty useful (he likes to use the word "like," or call himself a "total loser", etc).
> 
> But yeah anyway I'm still learning the ropes, and I think I've ranted a little too much here already. Thank you for reading! Do comment your thoughts, suggestions, corrections, questions, and/or violent (but constructive) reactions. Feedback is (usually) nice.


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